


The Care and Feeding of Baby Katakans

by caffeinatedmusing



Series: The Care and Feeding of Vampires [3]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Vampires, blood and wine dlc, katakan pups
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 15:46:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9827156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caffeinatedmusing/pseuds/caffeinatedmusing
Summary: Regis tries to help Geralt decide what to do with his mischievious little foundlings.





	

Regis materialized at the edge of the property and walked the rest of the way up the road to the house. Humans startled so easily sometimes. It was unfortunate. He had found that giving them as much opportunity to see him behaving as a ‘normal’ person helped ease their suspicion immeasurably. So long as no one noticed the lack of a shadow being cast by the early evening light, he should be fine.

He need not have bothered; no one was about. 

Aside from some workers visible in the distant fields on their way back in at the end of the day, the grounds around the house were devoid of life. And not just people but the usual assortment of dogs, cats, and even the peacocks. _Strange._

Geralt’s letter had asked after the care and feeding of baby katakans. Sheer curiosity over what could have prompted such questions had drawn Regis back. 

Dettlaff was not doing well by any standards but he also very pointedly did not want company at the present; the bottle thrown across the room to smash against the wall next to the door amid snarled curses and aggressive form shifting upon Regis’ arrival had given ample testimony to his mood. If it was one thing Regis could afford to give Dettlaff right now, it was more time to grieve. Being long lived and nearly immortal did have its benefits. Geralt, on the other hand, had far less time allotted to him in life and so Regis found himself returned to Beauclair and the old vineyard estate known as Corvo Bianco.

Approaching the door, one hand raised towards the brass knocker, Regis paused at the sound of something breaking inside the house. He staggered back when that same door flung open and a harried bespectacled man rushed out.

“I wash my hands of it!” Barnabas-Basil had those hands up in defeat. 

“Perhaps you can talk some sense into him.” The majordomo called back over his shoulder as he walked off towards the cluster of small houses where the vineyards employees lived. 

Regis caught the door before it could shut.

“Geralt?” His voice fell in a soft hush in the newly carpeted hallway with no response. The place smelled of fresh paint; someone had added a rich wash of amber color with stenciled borders since the last time he had been here. 

Another crash sounded. Followed by a shrill upset… _squeaking_? Regis headed towards the noise. _He really does have…_

Marlene’s voice drifted from the dining room ahead, clucking in disapproval. 

“Careful, don’t hurt her.”

“I’m not trying to hurt her. I’m trying to get her down.” The witcher’s gravelly tone was exasperated.

Regis rounded the corner at the end of the main hall and found himself frozen speechless at the spectacle before him. 

Geralt, standing up on a table, was working to pry a small katakan pup from her perch up on the chandelier. Judging by the wreckage, she had somehow climbed up the shelves of the cabinet, knocking down plates and teacups along the way, and then made her way along the top of it before hopping across to swing on the light fixture; the candles were all canted at strange angles and a few had been sent to the floor. Fortunately, it had not been lit.

The baby squirmed and shrieked until he managed to hand her off to the unflappable Marlene, who tucked the pup into a tall laundry basket set at her feet where two more inquisitive little faces peeped up over the edge, awaiting their sibling.

“Hey, Regis. I could have used your help just now.” Geralt got down off the table and shoved it back into place while Marlene swept up the broken porcelain.

“So I see.” Regis kept one hand up over his mouth, hiding the fang -baring grin, black eyes glinting with laughter. “When you wrote, I assumed you were asking for a hypothetical future endeavor rather than a current one. I came back because I got curious and I now see I was quite right to be. Wherever did you find them?”

“Got ‘em on a contract.” The witcher came over for a greeting hug. 

Marlene dusted off her hands and excused herself to return to the kitchen. The savory scent of onions simmering in butter drifted out in the wake of the kitchen doors swing.

Regis turned his attention back to the basket and its unusual, and active, contents. 

“Three? Separate nests?” Regis wondered aloud as he sat back on his heels and watched the little ones watching him.

“No. Same nest.”

“Interesting. Katakans are normally a single birth. I’ve not heard of triplets. These look well. You’ve certainly been feeding them.” He gently gathered up one that seemed less fidgety, hefting the furry little body to guess at its weight. “I’m no expert, but I would approximate their age to be about three months. Maybe four. I expect the multiple birth means they are small for their age. ” 

“Four sounds about right. They’re on solid food. Can they tell that you’re a vampire, too? They’re staring at you.”

“I don’t think so. Not yet, anyway. At the moment, I expect that they are merely waiting to see where my boundaries are before attempting any more misbehavior.” Regis gave the witcher an amused glance, smile still tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“They woke up earlier today than usual. Got away from me when I wasn’t looking…”

“I noticed.” Regis continued his examination, setting down the one he held and lifting the second, and then the third. 

“Well, they are the very picture of health. Two females and this smaller one; the runt, I would presume, is a male. ” He peered at the bat- like face in front of him before resettling the little one more comfortably against his chest. Lowering his head, he sniffed at the pup’s fur. Expression puzzled, he turned to the witcher.

“Is that… Dandelion’s shampoo that I smell?”

“Needed something to wash the lice and fleas off before I brought them in the house the first night. But it seems to work well enough, so I kept using it.”

Regis didn’t bother to hide his grin that time. 

“And what does our troubadour friend think of sharing his toiletries?”

“I don’t know. He hasn’t been around much lately. ‘Consoling’ the Duchess is apparently a full time job. ”

“Hm. A shame. You know how I feel about Her Stubbornness. And I rather liked Priscilla.”

“Yeah. Me, too. I don’t think she knows.”

“Well, that puts you in an awkward position.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” Geralt sighed and rolled his eyes as he reached out a hand to prevent one of the babies from flipping head first out of the basket. 

Regis flinched when the pup he was holding nipped one of his fingers. He tapped it lightly on the nose in reprimand. The pup sneezed and shifted around in his grasp, long fingers and toes clinging as he looked for a better position. 

“I don’t suppose…Have they got names?” 

_Exactly how much bonding have you done, witcher?_

“One Too Many, Two Too Many, and Three Too Many.” Geralt pointed at each one in turn. “I just call them One, Two, and Three.”

“Geralt…” Regis could only shake his head in exasperation. _I suppose that answers that. Must you always pretend that caring is beyond you?_

“I was going to call them all Roach. But then I thought that might get confusing for Barnabas-Basil.”

“…Of course you did.” Regis considered for a moment before asking, “But how do you tell the girls apart?”

“That’s obvious. Two’s nose and ears are smaller and her fur is darker. She’s also got a higher vocal pitch. More adventurous, too.” Geralt jerked his head to indicate the chandelier. He sounded almost smug.

They were climbing out of the basket again.

“It’s almost dinner time. Well, breakfast, for them.” Geralt explained, as he scooped up Two and set her on the floor. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a metal disc cut and smoothed to resemble a large coin. Big enough not to swallow, but nice and shiny, it distracted them as they followed its roll around the floor with their big black eyes. Two scrambled after it, her little nails clicking against the floor, eager squeaks drawing attention from her siblings. 

Regis set down the little male, Three, who took off after his sister. One followed. They took turns sliding the coin around to let the little katakans chase after it until it was time to eat.

Dinner turned out to be a delicious onion soup with poached eggs floating in the center of each bowl and generous slabs of fresh bread toasted in the oven with a smoky rich cheese melted over it. Served with a crisp white wine and a blackberry tart, the meal would have been well worth the visit alone, in Regis’ opinion. Not that the company was at all lacking.

As for the pups, their dinner was a mush of raw chopped chicken, some yoghurt, and a raw egg served from a shallow bowl. When he asked her about the addition of the egg, Marlene insisted it would make their fur shiny. Geralt snorted and pointed out that they weren’t show dogs. Vampires, he said, liked shiny things, they didn’t need to be shiny things.

Regis watched the pups eat while the familial teasing went on. Raccoon quick fingers went right into the bowl and then into their mouths with a lot of little smacking noises and great deal of mess. All three ended up wearing nearly as much as they swallowed. After a quick wipe down, they were put back in their basket where they made baby attempts at grooming each other until the dishes were cleaned up.

Once it had grown fully dark, they carried the basket outside so the pups could play in the garden. 

“Well, Geralt, I’m not entirely certain what to advise you. Under the circumstances, you seem to have them well in hand.” 

They sipped at the last of the wine while they watched the little ones roll and tumble, squeak and hiss, as they practiced mock battles across the grass under the stars. Beyond the hills, the moon was rising. It was a lovely night to be outside and the cooling breezes intensified the scent of the blooms tumbling over the arbor and low garden walls. The vampire leaned back, stretched out his legs, and basked in the beauty of it.

“Regis, I can’t keep them. For now, it’s manageable. Assuming BB doesn’t quit.”

“Yes, I meant to ask, what sent him off in such a huff?”

“They peed on his shoes.”

As soon as he stopped chuckling, Regis asked, “But what can I do? I daresay I couldn’t raise them any better than you could. I haven’t had much association with our lesser brethren, after all.”

“Don’t know of a nice vampire family that might take them?”

“Hm. Yes. A foster family. That could work. There are, of course, vampire families living here in Beauclair. And nearly everywhere else, for that matter. A few packs scattered about. But most wouldn’t take in lesser vampires; it makes it much harder to blend in with the humans, you see…” Regis trailed off, stroking his chin as he thought.

“There is one. He might do it. And I would trust him with young ones. Although, he’s not doing very well just now.”

“Who’s that?” 

“…Dettlaff.” Regis braced for the reaction.

“I was afraid you were going to say that.” Geralt groaned. “Regis, he _can’t_ come back here. I’m still not convinced I should have let him go. I’d like to _avoid_ being executed.”

“I am well aware of the difficulties involved.” Regis frowned, “But I’m afraid I simply don’t have any better answer. Your alternatives are either to do this yourself, which is certain to bring you similar trouble in the long term, or set them back where you found them.”

“…Where they’ll die because they’re too little to fend for themselves.”

“You’ve killed others of their kind. Why would that bother you? You know, you may be making more work for yourself in the future now that they associate people with food and safety. Is your guilds code so loosely interpreted?” He gestured to the babies who were wrestling one another for control of a peacock feather one had found.

“Damnit, Regis, enough of your philosophizing; I don’t kill if I don’t have to. You know that. Besides, they’re just babies; they haven’t hurt anyone. I didn’t even know they were there until after.”

“Would you have done it differently, had you known?” Regis’ tone turned thoughtful.

“I don’t know. Might’ve tried relocating them.” Geralt shrugged and moved to take the feather away before it got eaten. 

“How would you even have begun to attempt…?” Regis chided him gently, shaking his head. “You know as well as I that a katakan or an ekimmara, for that matter, is far too territorial. You could never have successfully relocated a mother with young. No, I’m afraid the only possible action is the one you took. Unless….No. Nevermind. ”

“Regis…” Geralt prompted him to continue.

“Well….It occurs to me…I mentioned Dettlaff has the ability to control others of our kind?”

“You did mention it. We _saw_ that. You think he could have ‘persuaded’ the katakan to move elsewhere?”

“Possibly. It doesn’t always work. It seems dependent on a variety of factors. Of course, it’s too late now. But for future reference….You might consider asking him, should you ever encounter anything similar.”

Geralt frowned but gave no other answer.

The pups, having spotted a cricket hiding in the mud under the bushes, were now stalking it.

“Well, they can’t stay here much longer.” He gestured at them only to notice that Three had caught the cricket and popped it into his mouth, trying to swallow it whole; the faces he made at the ticklishness of its legs had them both chuckling. Then the pup coughed it up and the cricket escaped back under a rose bush. 

“Fine.” Geralt sighed in defeat. “Ask Dettlaff if he’ll take them.”

The pups began to tire not long after and were carted back indoors for a bath. Their ‘tub’ was an old bucket. Regis helped, holding the towel and moving fast to prevent sopping wet pups from shaking all the water off on them before they could be dried properly. Geralt brushed their damp fur fluffy near the fire; Regis suspected the brush had also been Dandelion’s. The pups cooed and chirped, eyes drifting shut as the grooming soothed them. The end result was three very soft, fragrant, sleepy pups that were free of mud and wanted to cuddle.

Their ‘bed’ was a crate lined with an old blanket in a corner of Geralt’s room. The rest of the household had long since gone to bed. After a while the only thing that could be heard was three sets of little heartbeats and soft breathing with the occasional chirring snore. Three had his thumb in his mouth.

“They are rather cute like that, aren’t they?” Regis commented as Geralt was draping a last blanket over the top of the crate to seal out the light.

“Yeah. I guess they are. For things that will grow up to be ten foot tall people eating monsters.”

Regis just shook his head and headed to the tub to get washed up. Geralt went to leave a note for Dandelion in case he came back.

When Geralt got done with his own bath, Regis was already in bed, wearing a borrowed pair of pajamas and reading a similarly borrowed book. They soon put out the light and tried to sleep.

Later, they heard a key in the door and Dandelion returned home, muttering at the discovery of his shampoo and his ‘good’ brush having been left out on the floor by the bucket and wet towel and surrounded by muddy pup prints. 

Regis could hear Geralt laughing softly through his nose. Then the footsteps headed upstairs and the bard went to sleep as well.

It was at some point during the pitch black hours of early morning, after moonset, that Regis jarred awake, haunted by the same cold oily terror he had felt while regenerating. It had been coming back to him more often of late, disturbing his rest. He sat up and forced himself to take a deep breath and count down from ten before exhaling, following a breathing exercise he had read about in a medical journal somewhere years ago.

Vampires didn’t need to breathe, strictly speaking, but he usually did. It was part of his whole fitting- in-with- the- humans routine, and he had found the journals premise to be correct; that forcing himself to focus on the rhythms of the physical form had a meditative quality that could be calming. 

“Nightmare?” Geralt’s voice was low in the darkness, the familiarity of it more calming than the breath counting had been.

He could only nod, not considering whether or not the witcher would even be able to see him. Nightmare wasn’t at all the right word but the general concept would suffice and he did not want to talk about it more than he already had.

“Hm.” Geralt grunted, still mostly asleep, and flung his arm out, offering Regis the space closer to him.

Settling in with his back against Geralt’s side, Regis focused instead on the sound of the witcher’s breathing, his heartbeat and warmth, the vital reminders that he was not alone. Within moments, he had fallen back to sleep. The fear did not wake him again. 

He stayed long enough the next day to help ease Dandelion’s introduction to the katakans. They took to him right away, possibly on account of the shared scents of the house and the shampoo and probably because much of Dandelion’s outfit qualified as _shiny_ , to the bards consternation. He wasn’t too sure about letting small vampires climb up on him, no matter how cute and fluffy they might be.

While he was scolding Geralt about the dangers, complaining over the misuse of his hairbrush, prying the pups off his legs and away from his chain of office, and wondering if the witcher had lost his mind, they chewed the buckles from his shoes and dragged his hat off to add to their bedding. 

On the plus side, Dandelion made up his mind to travel back to Novigrad the next day and that put an end to Geralt’s worry that he might have a permanent houseguest on his hands.

After dinner, Regis left to head back to Dettlaff and put the question to him of whether or not he might consider accepting responsibility for the three trouble making pups. 

Privately, he thought their sort of trouble might be just the cure for his blood brother’s wounded soul. 

The problem would be how to convince Dettlaff of it.

**Author's Note:**

> I love that Geralt is canonically bad at naming things and proud of it. (Ciri is lucky she already had a name...) And how Regis is always poking at Geralt to try and get him to admit he cares about stuff. 
> 
>  
> 
> I'm just making up all the rest as I go along.


End file.
